That Which is Found
by wuffinmaffles
Summary: On his way home from the market one day, Italian mafia heir Feliciano finds a blonde boy badly beaten and starved in an alley. He takes him home. This is the story of their friendship. 90% fluff, 10% plot.


This fic is inspired by and dedicated to Enji, my lovely and talented beta. Ages ago, she asked me to write her a fic between two enemies in another fandom (LxLight). Every time I started writing hate, I degenerated into fluff, which I started compiling here instead of wasting. Somehow, I ended up with 25,000 words of this and only 5,000 incompleted words of that one. I don't know why it is that every time I try to write it, I end up writing this. But all I can do is follow my muses and post this with sincere apology and gratitude to the beta I truly don't deserve.

Feliciano Vargas hummed to himself as he walked down the street. Slim, Italian arms wrapped around his grocery bags, which threatened to overflow with ripe tomatoes, crisp and perfectly green lettuce, and several packets of thick, quality beef. He only ever got to the market at noon, but people liked Feli, with his silly, sweet ways, and saved their best picks for him.

And he could pay. Vargas was a well-known name around town, having famously killed most of each other off last generation, and leaving the mafia fortune to the peaceable single mother of twins, Anya. Her refusal to do anything more with the fortune than raise her children made her the victim of a violent attack against the Family, but the fact that she was in a coma kept everything at a standstill, while killing the two heirs would accomplish nothing.

Feliciano was a lot like his mother. Free time, for him, was made for dancing, cooking, eating, swimming: leisurely celebrating every second of the life he had. He even looked like his mother, with his slight build, long eyelashes, and delicate features. Few begrudged him his wealth, since he was rich in a generous, uncaring way. Being around Feliciano didn't make those less fortunate feel poor in comparison, it made them feel rich with him.

Even now, one of his grocery bags held the crusty loaf of bread a young woman had pressed into his hands.

"Thank you," she'd said, tears in her eyes. "Thank you for what you did for my Dani."

"Sure!" He had laughed. "Tell her she can come around, anytime, okay? We had lots'a fun at the party, ve?" Feliciano had thrown a huge party for the whole town to celebrate the birthday of the little girl, after she'd lost her father and Feli had found her mother despairing over affording any sort of celebration. The girl's face had lit up for the first time since the news when she saw the lights and streamers filling the whole town, like on parade day, and the monstrous cake with her name written in cream on the thick chocolate icing on top.

"The whole town is your family now. So cheer up!" Feliciano wasn't like his playboy brother. His parties had a childlike feel about them, like festivals, with games and good food instead of women and expensive drinks the other boy was really too young for. He seemed to genuinely believe in all the naïve nonsense he spouted to the children of the town.

"Don't hit your sister, alright? Family should always stick together!"

"The most important thing in the world is love! Here, give her this'a flower."

"Of course you can be a doctor! Anything is possible if you believe, ve?"

He was absolutely useless, of course. Lazy, cowardly, and unskilled at anything except for skipping through life. But his brother was like that too, and everyone privately believed that if the two ever lost all their wealth, only one of them would be a burden on the town. They smiled as they watched him hum, and sway, and nearly drop all of his groceries several times as he walked back home, wishing he lived closer and never giving a second thought as to why it was that his mansion was so far from the poor and lopsided homes of the townspeople. He had just waved to the last house at the edge of town and started up the path to his house when he heard something shift in the grimy darkness between two stone walls, and a small mewling noise. He froze.

"Is that a cat?" Another mewling noise, this one clearly a sound of pain. "I'LL SAVE YOU, KITTY CAT!" He raced into the dark, dropped his groceries and stretched out his fingers until he encountered fur. Really soft fur. He stroked at it, until his eyes adjusted and he realized the ball of fur was actually attached to a body. The very human body of a blonde boy, filthy and bleeding. His eyes snapped open, and electric blue focused on Feliciano.

"Don't…take me to…_Arzt_." He struggled to focus. "doctor…_per favore_…" Feliciano's eyes widened. A German. The accent was strong when he spoke English, but he spoke Italian like he had never heard it spoken aloud before. And to ask not to see a doctor when he clearly needed one? Feli sighed and looked at his groceries. Most of them would not spoil if he left them for an hour. Luckily, the boy was only a little bit taller than him, and although he had wiry muscles, he was light, probably from starvation.

Feliciano carried him all the way home. The taller boy's feet dragged the whole way and Feli felt guilty for the bruises that he would probably get without shoes. Feliciano tried putting his own shoes on the boy, but they were too small.

When he got home, he narrowly avoided the gardener, but was able to sneak the German into his room without any problems. He put him on the bed, tucking him in, and ignoring the dirt and blood that smeared all over the expensive embroidered sheets. None of the wounds seemed fatal, anyways, so he cleaned and treated all the breaks in the skin, checked the boy for broken bones, and left a cool washcloth on his forehead when he finally decided to go back for his groceries.

Ludwig woke up in what felt like a cloud. Had he died? He was sure he'd have woken up in a hospital, or in prison, or even back home, although he'd done his best to beg not to be taken to a doctor. Had he even remembered the word for Doctor? And that girl…must have been an angel, if he was dead now. Ah, well, being dead was certainly much more comfortable than being alive. He sat up…and immediately, all the pain from before returned, driving the breath from him and collapsing him back onto the bed.

Trying not to move even to breathe, he considered what he'd seen, in the brief moment of uprightness.

He was not in a cloud. He was tucked into the biggest bed he'd ever seen, on a ridiculously soft mattress, under cream sheets and the fluffiest down comforter imaginable. Now he registered how much those things must have cost, and the careless way the muck and drying blood was soiling the luxurious fabrics. The room itself matched the bed. It was huge and airy, but mostly empty except for a huge vanity table, a dresser, a chaise lounge and three doors. He could see tile through one door, clothes through the other, and the third was firmly shut, but presumably led to the outside. Ludwig was just struggling to sit up again, gritting his teeth against the pain, when the girl from before opened the door and slipped in, shutting it quietly behind herself.

"Phew." She muttered to herself, before seeing Ludwig half propped up, and she ran over, eyes wide, to press a hand against his chest and push him firmly back down.

"_Vuoi morire_?"

"Vhat?" Ludwig asked, hoping the girl spoke English. She _had_ said something about a Kitty Cat earlier.

"Do you want to die? _Idiota._ Lie down so I can look at you, if you don't want a doctor." Ludwig lay down obediently, rigidly straight. The girl softened the pressure on his chest, noted the posture and laughed. "You can relax, you know. You look like a _soldato_ at attention." _Soldato_? Oh, _Soldat_. Soldier.

"Vhere am I?"

"Da best place in the world! Italy!" The girl was much too cheerful for someone now covered in bloody mud up to her elbows. Ludwig felt a morbid urge to look at his own wounds. "My turn! What's a'your name?"

"_Mein_ name is Ludwig." The problem with English was that some of the words were so similar to his native tongue that he slipped into the latter.

"D'you have a last name?" _Not that I want to claim_, he thought.

"_Nein_."

"Ve! Then I will call you Germany, because one always has a family in their country."

"Then you are Italy." He said, and immediately felt stupid, because the young lady was clearly someone of affluence, and probably had an entire family of wealthy, doting relatives. Why would she want another name?

"Yay!" The girl shouted and looked like she wanted to fling herself on him for a hug, but held herself back. "Alright, I think you are fine to take a bath. And then we can have pasta, _bene_?" Pasta sounded heavenly to Ludwig. Food generally sounded good. He swallowed, to wet his suddenly dry mouth and asked,

"Can vee eat furst?" The girl shook her head wildly, letting loose a curl which bobbed its agreement.

"No! You need to bathe so I can cook and change the sheets. Then you can go to sleep right after you eat. That would be good, no?" Feeling guilty about the sheets, Ludwig nodded and kept his eyes down submissively. He set his teeth to sit up. It wasn't too painful with the girl supporting him for the few steps to the bathroom, although he discovered that his ankle was sprained and his knee was worryingly weak.

The bathroom was huge. The bath was the size of a hot pool, and the shower was its own glass room with four heads mounted, one on each glass wall. The sink had an enormous marble counter, and there were shelves and shelves of oils, salts, candles, jars of petals, and creams.

"Sit." Italy deposited the boy on the toilet and started filling the bath with warm water. Checking the temperature often, she added oil from two separate bottles, soap from a third, a large amount of salt, and something that made the whole mixture bubble up. It smelled amazing. "Alright, take off your clothes." Ludwig hesitated. In front of her? "Hurry up!" When the girl reached out and yanked on his tattered shirt, Ludwig finally started stripping. He got into the water to hide under the foam as quickly as possible. The salt burned at his cuts for a while, but it faded into a dull throbbing, and the water was working miracles on the aches all over his body. "How is it?"

"_Wunderbar_." He sighed.

"Good! I make us food, okay?" The girl skipped out.

Feliciano made his way down to the kitchens. Now that he knew Germany wasn't going to die on him, it was very exciting having him in his room. He could take care of him, and feed him, and when he felt better, they could play together! Like a doll and a playmate, all in one! When his water started boiling, he added oil, pasta and fresh basil. Mmmm, he loved the smell of basil. He sniffed his fingers, but refrained from licking them until more flavors had built up. Grabbing some linens, he went upstairs to change the sheets. Eh, hiding them would take too much effort. He threw away the old ones.

Stretching the new, midnight blue sheets over his bed, he admired the contrast of the color against his creamy room, and sang a song to himself while he tucked in the edges. He took a moment to send a thank you up to god for making life such a beautiful thing, and went back downstairs for his pasta.

His brother was waiting downstairs for him.

"Pasta?"

"_Si_." Lovino watched him mix the meat in with the sauce in a saucepan and start adding spices and herbs. He picked up the bread and crushed it a little in his hand, listening to the crunch and watching the tiny wisps of steam that came from a still-warm interior.

"_Quanto è costato_?" Feliciano looked at his shoes.

"_Gratuito._" He mumbled.

"What? That bitch! Why do they give you things for free, Feli, you're useless!" He shrugged. It was a mystery to him, too.

"I dan'no! They just like me, I guess." Feliciano drained the pasta, added butter and cheese, and piled a generous amount on a plate. As soon as he poured the sauce over, Lovino snatched the plate and tore off a bigger hunk of bread than he could possibly eat.

"I'm eating in my room. Try not to be too loud."

"Alright." As soon as Lovino disappeared, Feliciano split the rest onto two more plates, put covers on them, dumped the dishes in the sink for the maid and headed back towards his room. He put the two plates on his dresser, and went to go check on his Germany.

Germany was sitting on the bench in the bath, rubbing at his own shoulder with one hand and wincing a bit.

"Are you sore?" He jumped, and spun his head so quickly that water droplets flew off in every direction. Italy giggled a little at the small wet spots on his shirt.

"_Ja_, a little." Actually, it felt exactly like he'd spent the last few days running without any food and ended up passed out by the side of the road, but he wasn't going to say that.

"I have a fantastic oil! Wait, I'll rub it on you." Italy started stripping, and Germany put up a hand to shield his eyes.

"No, you can't! You're a-" Germany made a discovery. "A boy!" Italy tossed his pants to the side, vaguely in the direction of where he'd tossed his shirt and where Germany had neatly folded his rags. He tilted his head, looking confused.

"That's silly! What's wrong with me being a boy? It'd be worse if I were a girl, I think." He climbed in to the bath and covered his hands in oil to start working out the knots that seemed to make up most of Germany's back.

Germany sat back in shock. Oh. _Oh_. Well, that made sense. His angel was, apparently, a boy.

"How does that feel?"

"_Gut_." It felt amazing. Fantastic. Like Italy's hands were made of oil too, and all of it was pushing and rubbing at the sore parts in his back and making them feel soft and relaxed. Not just the ones he'd gotten recently, either. Knots he felt like he'd had his whole life.

Everything disappeared for Germany except for Italy's pressure on his back. As the hands glided over his skin and worked at his muscle, tension melted into a feeling of relaxation so deep it was like a bruise. Whenever the hands moved, he mourned the loss of them in one spot, even as he welcomed them in another. In languid bliss, he slumped forward more and more until his nose touched the water. Then he slumped even more.

"Ah! Maybe we stop for now. You will drown!" Italy pulled him back, and leaned him against the wall. He drained the tub and guided them into the shower, where Germany felt another twinge of guilt at the realization that they had been sitting in his bloody water. After jumping out and drying himself, Feliciano pulled Germany out and dried him too. Ludwig was suddenly too tired to be embarrassed. He dazedly allowed himself to be led back to the room and pushed back on the bed, where the hands returned to flutter over him. Instead of massaging, they applied creams and bandages.

The first aid kit was snapped shut and tucked away, and Italy returned to slide him under the covers and to lift the covers from two steaming plates of pasta and put one in his lap.

Germany remembered how hungry he was and started shoveling food into his mouth. The pasta was wonderful, all buttery and rich, and long strands of melted cheese that stretched up to meet each forkful. And the meat! _Wau!_ Pasta was all very good and well, but there was a fullness from good meat that Ludwig hadn't had in a while.

"_Lecker!_"

"Hmmm?"

"Good food. It means delicious."

"_Grazie!_ It is, isn't it? Pasta is always wonderful, ve!" As hungry as he was, the plate was only half empty when he started slumping over again. Italy's dish had been completely empty for a little while, which was a little alarming, considering that he had been racing against a boy who hadn't eaten in two days.

"_Ja_…" Germany agreed, sounding half asleep already. Italy whisked away the plate from in front of him, and pushed him back, tucking the covers up around his chin.

"_Dormire_." Italy didn't know if Germany actually understood his order, but he fell asleep almost immediately. Toeing off his slippers and stripping off his shirt, Italy crawled into bed next to his German and went to sleep.

_**A/N: This is NOT genderbent. Ludwig is just confused, as per canon. **_

_**For the first time in my life, I've actually written a good chunk of this in advance. I can promise the first 25000 words of this exist, but I've put it on the account I disassociate myself from, so that I won't feel guilty about abandoning it if I lose interest. Hint: reviews are a good way for me to not loose interest. **_


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